I’m reading on the beach when the day

campers arrive, heralded by a boy shouting

the lady with the braces has syphilis!

Ontarian wildfire smoke blew

south overnight and the hills ringing

the shoreline pop green once again.

Cannonballs launch themselves

from the docks. The grass is dappled

with soapwort and black medic, plantain

where feet trample year after year racing

to the water. Another kid starts to say shit

before turning it into what do you know.